Nobody Puts Baby in a Corner
by mainegirlwrites
Summary: The Impala has her place in the largest vintage auto auction in the country, much the Dean's dismay. Can he win her back by being the highest bidder?
1. Chapter 1

**Nobody Puts Baby in a Corner**

**Chapter One**

Dean gripped the taut chain link fence fiercely. Inside the fence sat a group of impounded cars, and right in the middle, seemingly serenely enough, was parked his Impala. The hot sun gleaned down on Dean' head, and a drop of sweat rolled down his back under his denim shirt. Dean didn't turn when he heard footsteps crunch on the gravel behind him. He already knew it was Sammy.

"Don't tell me you have nothing to say, Sammy," growled Dean, still looking at his black baby. "Don't tell me you are suddenly speechless."

Sam shifted his weight uncomfortably, feeling the pressure of this brother's angst rest on his shoulders. "I'm sorry, Dean. This is all my fault."

Dean spun and looked at his younger brother, who suddenly looked down at his shoes. Sam knew he had been sloppy on this last case, careless even, and Dean had every right to be mad at him. It was Sam's fault that the Impala now sat where she was. But Sam hated when Dean was mad at him.

Dean strode past Sam without a word, his quick footsteps sending up puffs of dry desert sand under the hot Nevada sky. He marched to the mobile trailer that housed the auction office to sign in and get his number.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

One Week Later

"Son of a bitch...,"Dean murmured, his voice trailing off in disbelief. Sam smiled to himself, a little bit pleased that Dean was now the speechless one. The brothers had entered the home of one of the largest automobile auctioneers in the country. The giant structure was the size of a stadium, with the focus being the front runway area where the auctioned vintage cars were, one by one, pushed up a ramp in front of the auctioneer stand. Camera crews hovered on the current vehicle, broadcasting its sale nationwide.

Over the buzz of the large milling crowd, the auctioneer's voice could be heard: "I've got 10-10-10-do I have 10-5?"

Dean spoke out of the side of his mouth to Sammy, his eyes plastered on the 1957 Chevrolet Bel Air that currently being put to bid. "He means ten thousand, five-hundred...right?"

"Right," Sam confirmed. He rubbed his sweating palms against his long, loose jeans. If Dean was not able to get the Impala back, if they were somehow outbid, he knew his brother would never forgive him. They both knew the auction was a cash-only business, and the security was tight enough that there would be no opportunity to take the Impala without paying. Sam patted the wad of cash in his pocket. They had worked hard in the past week raise the cash, gambling, playing pool and cards. Suddenly the tight rolls of bills that amounted to $6,500 felt very small.

Dean had punished his little brother severely this past week, giving Sam only curt one or two word answers, and sending him to a different casino than the one Dean would work. They would meet back at the motel at night, feasting on their all-you-can-eat take outs out of Styrofoam containers, silently watching the auto auction as it was broadcast each night. The auction had been running for four days already, and luckily, the Impala was not scheduled to go up for bid until the last day.

And now it was the last day.

The brothers slowly moved toward the front and slid into two seats, seeming to never take their eyes off the string of beautiful vintage vehicles that paraded past them on the stage. Dean sat on the edge of his seat, muttering at the high prices. And even though Sam could admit he wasn't really a "car guy" like his brother, he could appreciate the history of the classics that went up for bid.

A few cars later, the auctioneer announced the final vehicle of the program. A 1965 red corvette was pushed on the stage, and numbers rang out. In disbelief, the brothers watched the corvette being pushed off the stage and the cameramen shut off their glaring lights. Workers scrambled, winding up lengths of extension cords and packing equipment.

"Where's my car?" Dean whispered in dismay. He turned to Sammy, eyes pleading. "Did we miss her? Is she gone?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Nobody Puts Baby in a Corner**

**Chapter Two**

The brothers heard a chuckle behind them. Sam turned to look, but Dean sat unmoving, the color drained away from his face.

"Jesus Christ," Sam gasped.

Dean turned to look. "You mean, Colonel Sanders," he remarked. Indeed, the gentleman sitting behind them could have passed for the chicken master. A full frame of a man sat encompassed in a white suit, broad rimmed white hat, and matching locks and beard.

The man smiled. "Ah do get that a lot," he replied, in a nasal southern twang. "You looking for ah certain ve-hicle?" The man gestured to the empty stage while pulling out the master program for the auction.

"Y-yes. A 1967 Chevy Impala. She was impounded," Dean spoke.

"Ahh, the rejects. The last ones that no-bod-y wants." The drawl pulled out the words, almost to the point of the Winchesters needing a translation.

"Rejects? _Rejects?" _Spittle flew out of Dean's mouth.

Sam turned quickly to his brother, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Dean, this is good news! These are the cars that nobody wants - "

"_There is one that I want!"_

"- and that means less bidders. More chance we can get her back for you, okay? Just calm down," Sam soothed. Dean stared straight ahead, sickened by the fact that someone just called his baby a reject, but understanding Sam's point. Sam nodded a thanks to the gentleman and steered Dean away, down towards the very front of the immense room. A small crowd had begun to gather. Gone were the well-polished men sporting Rolex watches and skinny blondes on their arms. The jeaned, hardened middle class show had begun.

The auctioneer pulled long on his water bottle and scanned the crowd below from where he stood on the broad stage. He sighed and began, "When the hammer drops, you own it. Cash only. You must pay the full balance, today, to take the car. Play nice. We have twenty five vehicles for you today, here's the list." An assistant began to pass around copies. Dean snatched one and peered at intently.

"These cars are sold in as-is condition. If you have to tow it, push it, or crush it, its got to be out of here, today. Follow me please, and we will head out to the back holding area..." The crowd obligingly followed the auctioneer. Dean and Sam held back.

"Its there, right?" Sam whispered.

"Yeah, Lot Ten, she's Lot Ten, Sammy." Dean's eyes shimmered. He blinked rapidly and looked away. "You have the money, right?" he asked gruffly. Sam patted his jean pocket reassuringly.

"Don't worry, Dean, okay? She's as good as yours." Sammy instantly regretted his words. He may have just jinxed them, because life was just never that easy for the Winchesters.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

The crowd walked slowly under the blazing afternoon sun towards the impound lot. Thankfully, the cars had been moved under a large tent, granting everyone a grateful reprieve from the heat. But Sam still felt hot...and nervous.

"Listen, Dean, let's just be careful, okay? Let's watch the crowd, see who the heavy hitters are, and not bid ourselves out of what we can afford," Sam mumbled to his brother. Dean nodded imperceptibly. Sam didnt know if he was actually listening, or nodding to shut his brother up.

The cars were moving quickly. They were already at Lot Three, a beat-up 1989 Mercedes convertible. She was once a cherry red, but neglect had scarred her with scratches that had scabbed with rust.

Dean clucked his tongue. "That's a shame," he said to no one. Sam glanced at him sideways. He had never seen his brother so much on edge. Sam bit inside his cheek to keep from reassuring Dean – he knew his big brother didnt want so much as a smidge of empathy.

Lot Four...Lot Five...Lot Six...

Colonel Sanders bid on a few cars, finally settling on a massive Lincoln Towncar in good condition. He nodded good-bye to the Winchesters, and Sam nodded back a reply, but Dean didnt seem to notice.

Sam blinked in the dry heat and tried to keep focused. He was tired from gambling all night, every night, for the past week. He was mentally exhausted from the guilt of loosing that car. The fear – yes, the fear – that they may not get it back gnawed at him. More than anything, it was the last piece of their dad that Dean could touch, could take care of, could love. And if that got taken away -

Lot Seven...Lot Eight...

Sam noticed the crowd begin to thin as the buyers left to claim their purchased vehicles or lost interest in the auction. The 'heavy hitter' appeared to be a thin, olive-complexioned man with a permanent scowl and a deep scar on his cheek. Sam caught him glancing at them several times.

Lot Nine...Lot Ten.

"Okay, a black 1969 Chevy Impala, four door...let's start the bidding at...one thousand dollars."

Sam was almost knocked over by Dean's arm as it flew into the air.

"Dont seem so eager!" Sam hissed at him.

"Shut up!" Dean hissed back.

"I have one thousand...do I heard fifteen?"

"Yup!" A pimpled teen shouted from across the Impala's roof.

"Two here!" Dean shouted, shooting daggers with his eyes at the youth.

"Twenty-five!" Pimples shot back.

Dean pushed to the front of the crowd and leaned on the Impala's hood, his hands molded into angry fists.

"Three." Dean replied. The teen turned and walked away. Dean stood up and sighed with relief.

"Four." The scar-cheeked man casually bid.

"Okay, four, four, do I hear forty-five hundred for this Impala?"

"Yup!" Dean cried.

"Fifty-five," Scarface replied quietly.

"Dean, careful..," Sam attempted to sound calm. Dean spun on him instantly, teeth bared, eyes blazing. The brothers exchanged a wordless exchange, and only when Sam bent his head and physically took a step back did Dean resume bidding.

"Six," Dean bid. Scarface had been leaping up by thousands, and they only had five-hundred dollars left. Sam watched as Dean's shoulders went rigid with his held breath.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

The auctioneer's voice rang out. "I've got six, six thousand for this Impala from this young man...going once..."

Sam heard Dean gasp out loud and raised his head to see what his brother was looking at. Scarface was looking right at the brothers, his eyes black with demon.

"...going twice..."

"Six thousand, five hundred...and one dollar," Scarface sneered, his eyes quickly returning to normal.

The auctioneer paused, his hand dramatically in the air.

"Uhh...okay, we have a bid at 6-5-0-1..." he turned to Dean, hand still in the air, eyebrows raised. Sam couldn't see Dean's face, but he knew he could feel the blood drain from his own body down into his feet. He actually felt light-headed and in the heat, his giant frame felt like it could blow away in the desert wind.

"Going once..."

Silence. Sam knew Dean was crippled with the fear of loosing that damn car.

"Going twice..." Sam tried to restart his mind like a rusty engine. Certainly they must have gotten out of worse spots than this...there must be something he could do...he opened his mouth and croaked, "Seven!"

Dean whirled around, face astonished. "What are you doing - ?"

Scarface sneered, eyes flashing black for an instant that only the brothers could see.

"Seven, I have fresh bidding from this young man, do I hear seven-five?"

Scarface nodded, and it was back to Sam.

"Remember boys, this is cash only! If it's not in your pocket, you can't drive it away!"

Sam nodded. Scarface nodded back. It was at ten thousand dollars within seconds in favor of Sam. He felt his head spin. _No plan, but I'll figure it out. _

"Okay, ten-thousand for this lovely ride, going once...going twice...," Scarface clenched his face and turned to walk away.

"It's sold to you, young man, for ten-thousand dollars!" The auctioneer appeared relieved and several people around them even applauded. Sam reached forward and held up Dean's limp hand so the assistant could see their bidding number. Dean looked weakly at Sam.

"That's the first time we beat a demon without spilling some blood, Sammy," he said. But his eyes were still expressionless. "But we don't have that money. Stupid hunting, no real job, not even a savings account, we got nothing Sammy that car was all we had and now -," Dean's words tumbled over each other until he glanced at something behind Sam.

"What - ," Sam started, but he felt a familiar cool hand on his shoulder. Castiel.

"I think you boys might need this," he offered a neat bundle of hundred dollar bills. "This should be enough."

Sam hooted and hugged the angel, who responded stiffly. Dean's face radiated pure joy.

"Cas, you bastard, I'm not even going to ask where you got the money - ,"

"Yes, please don't ask - ," Castiel waved his hand, dismissing the comment. Dean accepted the money and went to reclaim his baby. Sam watched him practically skip away, a joyful bounce in his step.

"_Thank you, Cas,_" Sam said meaningfully, turning to Cas, but the angel was already gone.

Just maybe, sometimes, the Winchesters did get lucky.

_The End_


End file.
